


We Need Never be Ashamed of Our Tears

by Flightlesskiwi



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, References to Depression, Shore Leave, comforting your lover by reading him classic literature
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 08:19:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19330708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flightlesskiwi/pseuds/Flightlesskiwi
Summary: Without the duties of running a starship to distract him, Jim's mental health gets worse. Spock takes it upon himself to care for his captain when things get too hard.





	We Need Never be Ashamed of Our Tears

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published spirk fic!! I'm very excited (and a little nervous) to share this but I've been in this fandom for a long time and I'm really enjoying writing for it. 
> 
> Big thanks to [grumpybonesey](https://grumpybonesey.tumblr.com/) for beta-ing this and just being an all around cool person, you're a star! 
> 
> Without further ado, here's 1k of me projecting onto Jim, enjoy!

* * *

  


“Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts.” -Charles Dickens, _Great Expectations_

  


* * *

  


Spock shuffled into the apartment, carefully maneuvering the two shopping bags in his hands so that he could close the door. It was quiet inside and Spock moved through to the kitchen, setting down the groceries on the counter and gazing out the window. He took a moment to enjoy the sight of the Pacific rolling lazily into the bay before going in search of Jim. 

The rest of the apartment was undisturbed, no forgotten dishes on the coffee table, no towel discarded on the bathroom floor, no balcony door left ajar, barely any sign that Jim had moved from his bed this morning. Spock felt a sharp pang of concern as he realized it was possible he had not, in fact, moved at all in Spock’s absence. 

Jim had once stated that Spock worried about him too much and not enough about himself. Spock had argued that it was an illogical conclusion, as most sentient beings place their survival above all else. The captain had laughed and told Spock he, “wasn’t at all like any other sentient being he had met.” That had been near the start of their relationship, now Spock could freely admit -at least to himself- that for him, Jim’s safety and happiness took priority above all else, even his own well-being. 

He walked to their shared bedroom and noticed that the door was slightly ajar, showing only hazy darkness inside. A weight settled onto his shoulders and his concern grew stronger. There were some instances where he could not help Jim, and they tormented Spock with worry as much as they tormented Jim with lifelessness. 

“Jim, it is two o’clock in the afternoon,” Spock said softly, peering around the doorframe at the lump in the bed that was his captain. Jim grunted in acknowledgement but didn’t seem to move, instead staring blankly at where the curtains were drawn across the window with his back towards Spock.

The vulcan felt his concern rising, usually on shore leave Jim was most concerned with seizing the day and not wasting their limited time on Earth together. He frequently dragged Spock along on outings, from camping trips to tourist destinations, and he had a habit of following his nose around San Francisco and simply seeing where they ended up.

However, sometimes there would be spells in between where melancholy took hold of his captain. With his days lacking the structure of life aboard a starship, Jim easily fell prey to long periods of inactivity, laying in bed and scarcely getting up to eat or shower. Without the needs of the crew and a captain's duty to motivate, Jim became lost in his worries and darker thoughts. Rousing him from such moods was not always easy but it was something that Spock did without hesitation. 

The captain was a vibrant being, to see him so still was at odds with the man Spock had come to know. 

Yet this too was a part of Jim, as much as the captaincy, or his all-consuming joy in the unknown. They were t’hy’la, and all parts of Jim, Spock accepted, knew, loved. 

He returned to the kitchen, putting on some toast and brewing tea in the hope that he could encourage Jim to eat. When the toast was ready and spread with slowly melting butter and the tea was ready and suitably sweetened to Jim’s tastes he made his way back to their bedroom. Balancing the mug and plate gently on the nightstand before carefully considering how best to comfort Jim. 

He moved across the room, opening the curtains to allow clean afternoon light to penetrate the dim that had fallen over their bedroom. Then he went over to the bookcase and pulled _Great Expectations_ from the shelf. Jim had a noted partiality to Dickens, though there are still some of the author’s works missing from his collection. It was, Spock thought, a logical choice of book, a story about names and knowing oneself when Jim was feeling as he often said, “Not like himself”. 

He moved over to where Jim lay on the bed, the captain had rolled over and was watching Spock with disconcertingly blank eyes. Spock deposited the book on the bedside table next to the tea and toast and toed off his shoes, lining them up with the edge of the bed. He motioned for Jim to move over a fraction which he did without hesitation, making room for Spock to lie next to him. Spock too didn’t pause to think before he slid into bed beside his t’hy’la, though he remained seated upright, Jim’s head resting on his thigh. 

“Would you like me to read to you, ashayam?” He murmured, running his fingers softly through Jim’s hair. Jim looked up at him from where he had curled into his side, his mouth tugged up into a ghost of a smile, his eyes sparkling with gratitude and love. 

“Yes, I rather think I would,” he said quietly as his hand reached up to play with Spock’s. He felt a flash of burning affection from Jim through the haze of listlessness that lay like fog across his mind. 

Spock flushed slightly, still easily embarrassed and delighted by any small display of affection from Jim, despite his surety of it. He cleared his throat and allowed himself a small smile. 

“Very well,” he replied, and reached for the copy of Great Expectations on the nightstand, there was little Jim could ask of him that he would not do. Especially such little things as would bring him comfort during difficulty. 

“My father’s family name being Pirrip, and my Christian name Philip, my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip…” He began and with the late afternoon sun burning through the fog, he felt the day had been adequately ‘seized’. There was not a single moment, Spock was certain, that was ever wasted when it came to the company and care of his Jim.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought! <3
> 
> Come yell at me about spirk on [tumblr](https://some-sorta-horta.tumblr.com/).


End file.
